His Regret Arrived Three Days Late novel Chapter 44

The words hung in the air, leaving Yelena and Serena utterly humiliated.

Yelena’s voice became shrill. “Serena has always been better than you! Conrad never loved you, and you were too incompetent to win him over. He only married you because he had to! Now that you’re divorced, you hold a grudge against her. You got pregnant, and when Serena was kind enough to visit you in the hospital, you had Estelle push her down the stairs! You’re vicious! She’s your own cousin, for God’s sake!”

“Yelena, you’re here to pay your respects. Don’t bring up other matters,” Conrad warned, a hint of anger finally entering his tone.

Annika fought to control the trembling in her body, a silent, mirthless smile on her lips.

“I told Estelle to do it?” she asked, her eyes fixed on Conrad. “Is that what you believe, too?”

Conrad’s lips formed a hard line. He wanted to tell her he had never believed it for a second. But Annika was so headstrong. Perhaps under the pressure from Serena and Yelena, she would finally say something he needed to hear. So, he remained silent.

To Annika, his silence was an admission. He was siding with Serena. His quiet acquiescence felt like a dagger twisting in her heart, the pain indescribable and all-consuming. She heard her own voice, hoarse and weak.

“Who is Estelle close to? Whose orders would she follow? Do you think everyone here is a fool?”

“Estelle and I were on good terms, but that was just for show!” Serena shrieked, her voice filled with accusation. “Annika, my legs are broken! I can never walk again! My dream of becoming an internationally renowned dancer is gone! And it’s all… all your fault!”

Her roar of condemnation silenced the entire room.

After hanging up, she walked over to Yelena. “Aunt Yelena,” she said, her voice chilling, “whether you’re a person of principle or just a backstabbing hypocrite, the truth always comes out. Why don’t you take a look at this?”

Annika held out her phone, displaying several photos. The first showed a dimly lit bar, with Yelena whispering conspiratorially to a glamorously dressed young woman. The next showed Yelena handing a thick stack of cash to the woman. The third was a close-up of the woman’s manicured hand, clutching the money.

Yelena’s heart pounded, but she kept her composure. “Those are photoshopped,” she said calmly. “That’s not me.”

“Fine,” Annika said, her tongue pressing against the inside of her cheek. Her gaze, cold and sharp, landed on Conrad. “Mr. Beryl, perhaps you could have someone verify them.”